Threesome and Then Some
by Writers' Pulse
Summary: The Pulsettes return! One thing leads to another, and a fic prompt inspires one, which inspires a second, which inspires a third M/L installment! This M/L S1-ish fic finds Logan with a trio of women . . . Recommended by AURLCO!


DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters borrowed from Cameron & Eglee, or those taking from them. No profits realized.

A/N: A multi-writer offering by three of the original Writers' Pulsettes: this started as a response fic for the prompt, "Threesome," by Shy, and then Lisa & Mari jumped in to extend the fun. Now all three parts are combined for one M/L story, with a bit of AURLCO-inspired near-nekkidity. Reviews are appreciated!

_**Threesome and Then Some**_

**Part I: Threesome, by Shywriter**

_Kendra, Original Cindy and Max; movies, popcorn and nail polish..._

Not the sort of threesome he would have ever imagined, in the deep, dark privacy of his thoughts, but somehow the right sort of threesome for the icy, bitter night. Logan's focus was again pulled from his current project, a research article for a local newspaper, by sounds that had never graced his place before: shrieks of girlish laughter, sexist jokes, and howls of disbelief at the course of the movies only half-watched, amid their stories and gossip.

Logan hadn't expected to see Max at all that weekend, and assumed his time would be spent in front of his computer in the monastic quiet of his penthouse. Three months after moving to Portland, Kendra was coming back for the weekend to visit, and Max and Original Cindy had been looking forward to catching up, 'kickin' it' back at Crash, just as if she'd never left.

But as Kendra blew into town, so did an unusual winter blast, with ice storms snapping power lines, icy streets preventing most nonessential businesses from opening, and casting most places into unheated, frigid darkness.

Most places, that is, that had no generators ... or that were not on the priority list of service restoration.

It had been Logan's idea, actually. He'd seen a news report about a bus that had gone off the highway, injuring several passengers, and he picked up the phone right away to check with Max to see if Kendra had gotten in. Max quickly blew past her confirmation of her friend's safe arrival to fill Logan in on their weekend so far, huddled together under blankets in a chilly, dark apartment, only cold, stale crackers edible without power, Crash and every other night spot in town closed, their employees unwilling to brave ice and sleet to pour them some brew.

Hearing the hum of his own furnace working to re-warm his apartment, Logan glanced across at the lights glowing again in his apartment, his building's new generator working well; he noticed the lights bouncing up along the windows across the street from the power crews below as they worked to reconnect the largely underground power lines in this sector. He might not have full power for a while yet, but he knew he'd be among the first in the city to get it. And as it was, his building was running its generator on a four hour on, two hour off schedule until the connections were restored.

He had to insist. It hadn't occurred Max that he'd have power, and she repeated more than once that she hadn't started bitching just to get an invitation. But now, three hours later, with both sleet and the temperature still falling outside, the friends were warm and happy, safely ensconced in his living room, munching on a second bowl of popcorn, drinking hot chocolate, and largely ignoring a chick-flick playing on his TV.

Logan chuckled. Every once in a while, he leaned over to peek in toward his guests, watching them catching up. Original Cindy was doing their nails, one hand at a time, so they wouldn't have to slow down their popcorn munching, her job made even harder by the animated discussion bouncing around the room.

Logan wasn't getting any attention at all with this "threesome," but it was alright. One of the best gifts he could have ever gotten was to hear Max laughing ... happy ... safe ... kicked back, warm & dry. At the thought, Logan shifted to peek over toward the other room again, but this time his angel glanced up, catching him out of the corner of her eye as he looked her way...

_Busted!_ He reddened, knowing that somehow she'd know he'd been peering in all along. But without the others seeing, Max showed Logan a small smile of happy appreciation before turning back to laugh with her friends...

And he'd returned it, the glow still on his face as he turned away from the fun to get back to his article.

_Kendra, Original Cindy and Max; movies, popcorn and nail polish..._

...and for now, there was no better way to pass the evening...

**Part II: Under Cover, by Lisa0316**

Late, late night had just crossed over into early, early morning, and three girlfriends were sprawled on a leather sofa, engaged in a heated debate.

"I say briefs," Original Cindy said in a no-nonsense voice, defying anyone to contradict her.

"No, I think boxers," Max said. "Look at how he dresses, all layered and stuff. Just seems like boxers."

"I can't believe you and Logan still haven't done it yet," Kendra said in disgust. "Besides, he wears boxer-briefs."

"How do you know?"

"The guy's got nice style; Look at the way his pants fit him. Men like that always wear boxer-briefs."

"I still maintain that a brother as high-standing as that one is wearing the tighty-whities." Original Cindy would not be swayed from her original opinion.

Kendra arched her eyebrows. "Well, there's one way to find out right now."

"He went to bed two hours ago, Kendra. I am not going to wake Logan up to ask him what kind of underwear he wears."

"You don't have to wake him up. Just go in there and take a peak."

"What?" Max sputtered.

"Well, I can go look if you're embarrassed," Kendra offered, "but he is your boyfriend, after all."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Besides, sista-girl is all quiet and sneaky when she wants to be," Original Cindy added, completely ignoring Max's protest about Logan. After all, she had heard them so often at this point, it was easier just ignored them. "Go on, boo, you know you're quiet like a mouse when you don't wanna get caught jackin' somethin' from the cookie jar."

"Quiet like a cat, you mean," Max corrected, "'Quiet as a mouse' is a stupid analogy; Mice are squeaky. You can always hear them in the walls and stuff."

"Don't change the subject, Max. Just sneak into his room and take a peak, then report back. C'mon, you know we won't be able to sleep until we know." Kendra added a winning smile to enhance her argument.

"What if he wakes up and finds me in his room checking out his underwear?"

"Then he'll probably smile and pull you under the covers with him, and Original Cindy and I will watch the rest of the movie by ourselves while you two finally get it on."

"Go on, Max," Original Cindy added, "You know you wanta know as bad as we do. Just go cop a quick peek."

"I'm only doing this to shut you two up about this," Max lied. "You better stay in the hallway and keep quiet. If you wake him up when I'm in there, I'll kill you."

"You'll be too busy banging the long awaited gong to kill us," Kendra assured her, but they waited a respectable distance from Logan's room.

Max slowly opened Logan's bedroom door, putting enough weight on the hinges to prevent any sort of squeaking. The moonlight was shining through his windows, illuminating it enough that Max had no trouble discerning Logan's sleeping form. Without his glasses, with his features relaxed in sleep, he looked softer somehow, as though his defensive barriers had been lowered and he was more himself that she had ever seen him before. Max stood by his bedside for a few moments, watching him and standing extremely still so her presence wouldn't startle him awake. Her eyes wandered down his bare shoulder to the point where the comforter covered his chest.

"C'mon, Max!" came Kendra's urgent whisper from the doorway, where she and Original Cindy were practically tumbling into the room.

Max shot her friends a death glare from her position from his bedside until they retreated a few feet back, letting her complete her mission in stealthy silence. She slowly worked her hand under the comforter, near the mattress so no cold air would rush in and wake the object of her surveillance, and she dropped to a crouch so her eyes were at the level of the bed. Peering through the tunnel she created in the bedspread, she reached out towards the waistband of Logan's pajama pants, very carefully pulling the elastic away from his skin until she had a clear view of what was underneath.

Logan shifted slightly in his sleep and Max froze. When he settled into slumber again, she cautiously eased her hand away from his waistband and crept from his room, silently closing his bedroom door behind her. She wordlessly corralled her girlfriends out of the hallway and wouldn't allow them to speak until they were safely back in the living room.

"Well?" Kendra demanded eagerly once they were allowed to speak again. "What was it? Boxer-briefs, right?"

"No," was Max's quiet answer.

"Knew it; boy wears briefs. Original Cindy knows how to call 'em."

"Nope."

"Boxers? Really?"

"Uh-uh."

"Then what was he wearing?"

Max's voice was small as she answered. "Nothing. He was wearing pajama pants, but he didn't have anything on underneath them."

Kendra squealed with victorious laughter and exchanged a high five with Original Cindy while Max just sat there with a tiny, enigmatic grin on her face, slightly too shell-shocked from her recent discovery to participate in the celebration. After awhile the idea was played out and they moved on to other topics of conversation, but the concept (and the sight) was still fresh in Max's mind, and she knew she would never be able to contemplate Logan and the phrase "under cover" in the same thought ever again without silently thanking her girlfriends for their persistent curiosity.

**Part III: Morning After, by Mari83**

Morning afters were awkward.

This cliché was nothing new for Logan, who over the years had experienced that there was some truth to it. Brightly illuminated morning afters with a threesome of chatty females, however, who seemingly overnight had discovered some obscure new quality about him, were too much for Logan to handle on an empty stomach.

The vague impression of having missed something important was only intensified by the fact that the perfectly natural comfort of the last night had yielded to a certain stiffness now that the sun had come out to melt the icy threats of the last night into harmless slush. It was as if his guests had only now, as they gathered around an opulent breakfast-table à la Cale, become aware of the luxurious surroundings that harshly accented their own rundown and improvised homes.

Coming back from the kitchen with another round of eggs and pancakes, Logan tried to convince himself that all the secret glances and half-hidden smirks had nothing to do with him at all, that they were only the logical result of a long night of girl talk.

He probably would have succeeded had he been in his usual morning state of sleep-deprived mission-focus that allowed little awareness for anything else. But for the first time in quite some months Logan had slept in without a bad consciousness about all the waiting Eyes Only files, the calming sound of laughs and whispers letting him drift off peacefully and even accompanying his unusually vivid dreams. And so he was ready and alert to put all his journalistic skills into observing the slightly conspicuous behavior of three stranded bike-messengers whose enthusiasm over his guest bathroom made him smile sheepishly.

The phenomenon raising his suspicion wasn't so much Kendra's raving praise of his homemade plum-jam that was delivered while her eyes wandered over his chest with a different kind of appetite seemingly fueled by the conviction that she knew his every secret. Neither was it really Cindy's laid-back amusement as she wordily appreciated all the generous offers of the Hotel Cale, her enigmatic, all-knowing smile making Logan feel like a clueless teenager all over again.

It wasn't even that impression of being under constant observation, or their a trace too caring question about whether he'd slept well despite all their giggling… the thing that ultimately gave them away was Max inability to look at him without a faint blush and an over-aware, tight smirk at how the other two seemed to pay close attention to every nuance of every word that was exchanged between her and him.

In a halfway successful attempt to keep his cheeks from coloring too, Logan occupied himself with being a good host, trying to banish all thoughts about what exactly about him or Max – or seemingly rather him and Max – had been the topic of their discussion… And even though it was nothing but the truth, the idea of Max squirming uneasily as she told the two persons closest to her about them being nothing but good friends carried a strange, bitter disappointment for Logan's silly little fantasies.

It was almost noon when he eventually saw the three women out, feeling himself smile charmingly at their repeated thanks and Kendra's enthusiastic invitation to join them on Crash's next Super-Chili-Tuesday.

And just before the door closed behind Max, Logan managed to catch her eyes, succeeding to wipe that flustered nervousness from her face as he mouthed the magic formula of 'Dinner at eight'…

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

_Come visit "AURLCO" on LiveJournal for more ficlet-fun! ;_


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